A Taxing Evening
by Roxellee
Summary: April showers bring May flowers and a deluge of IRS 1040 forms to the Sherman Ranch. Slim has been procrastinating, Jess doesn't have a clue, Daisy and Mose asked Slim to do their returns. Will Slim manage to file on time? This story was not written for income so I will not have to claim any profit for next year's tax filing.


**A Taxing Evening**

By Roxellee

Snap, went a perfectly good pencil into two pieces. I let them fall from my grasp watching the two halves roll across the desk in different directions. This was pencil number five that succumbed to stress manifested in my tightly clenched hand.

I needed to start working on my businesses' and my employees' personal taxes. I will admit that I have been procrastinating. It's like Jonesy said wishing don't get it done. Running a stage station demanded priority competing with the thousand jobs owning a ranch required. I cleared my schedule to begin.

I am seated at Pa's roll top desk doodling a curly-cue tail on the business end of something resembling a horse while I remembered the first time Pa worked his taxes.

-SR-

(1863)

It was a rainy cold April evening when I walked into the house after checking the livestock. Pa was engaged in a fractious discussion with Ma. I shucked off my dripping slicker at the door calling out that all is well in the barn. Pa grunted at my presence. I quietly rocked in front of the hearth, enjoying the fire's warmth, listening to what caused Pa's irritability.

I heard his pencil scratching on paper with the occasional rubbing sound of erasures. He had to force himself to 'pencil-push' figures in his ledgers; hence, he put off doing this new fangled tax reporting. Pa preferred outdoor work and it grieved him to sit at a desk, it took Ma's nagging to get him to begin. The filing deadline was fast approaching, biting him in the ass for stalling. I found that funny and choked back my chuckling. The paperwork was due mid April.

I ventured a look over my Pa's shoulder to see him staring at a simple one page 1040 form. He looked up and smiled at me then spoke, "Slim I appreciate that you made the evening rounds in this toad strangler. Have you dried up sufficiently?" He paused. "No need to stay wet and catch the cold son."

"I'm good Pa."

"Well then, pull up a chair, sit, and learn. I will explain the newest tragedy the government has bestowed upon us. Our Union is short sighted, foolishly figuring that the scrimmage would be quickly put down. They did not plan on how determined and committed the Confederacy stands. The Union's thinking fell short of reason, so the the war is lasting longer than expected, depleting the Fed's coffers. So what are they to do? They can't stop the war so Congress debated over the quickest and least painful way to collect funds. It maybe simple and painless for them but not for us. They settled on taxing our income, last year it became law. We all have to report our last year's income and pay a tax of 3 percent on it by April of this year. The payment is due on the fifteenth of April. What we have paid in taxes during 1862 will be credited against the 3 percent sum on income."

Ma returned to her kitchen to finish washing dishes. I figured she has heard this before. "Pa, will the men that lost their jobs and the farmers whose land have been confiscated by the Union or the Rebs be expected to report their income?"

"Those unfortunates are exempt from this vile taxing. Most honest folks will pay, and it better be on time or they slap a fine on us." He answered.

"Do you think many will disobey?"

"Sure. Ignorance or living far from settled villages would prevent anyone from learning of this law. You take the mountain men living off the land fur trapping, and when they showed up at trading posts this spring to be told of it, they probably ran back to the nethers. There will be men who will flatly refuse. The Confederacy no longer is subject to Federal laws, if they levied this tax it would be for their benefit. What is there to collect? They have already bled their states dry. They are under equipped and may start seeing men deserting in mass. The prisons on both sides of the line are deplorable, short on food, medicine, and overcrowded. There is not a shred of humanity allowing torture and diseases to abound. This war has brought out the worst in us." Pa ranted.

"Here son, mind adding up this page on the ledger?"

"Shure." I took the book, pencil and lined paper to neatly calculate sums. Ma was done with dishes and brought Pa coffee.

"Matt where can I set this down, I don't want it to be spilt on your papers. Slim may I bring you a cup?"

"Yes Ma'am." The hot coffee chased the remnants of my chills away. She sat at the rocker to see my reaction to Pa's discussion.

Pa continued his sermon. "Not only have our sons been conscripted to war, now Congress is demanding our income, robbing us of the fruit of our labors. Dag-nab it! I stayed neutral, mainly because slave ownership does not involve us; I do not and will never keep slaves. A man has to make his own way in this country even when his back is near broke; he wakes up tired and sorer than hell to continue his toil. Mary I ain't happy about anteing up, but I'll pay the damnable taxes, if it keeps the Union intact. I bet George Washington is turning over in his grave."

"Matt, Jesus said, 'Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's; and to God the things that are God's,' Matthew 22:21.' Surrendering the three percent tax will not harm us because we are doing our part for our country. That tax we will pay is the cost of new fabric for curtains or frivolities that I can certainly live without, knowing the hardships the East is enduring. We are fortunate and blessed that our ranch has not become a battleground with us burying young men on our land. There are folks whose farms have been ravaged, and so hungry they are grubbing for roots and worms. I pray the war will end by this Christmas, because dead boys do not build a country. This country has potential and after the war ends, we will be expanding the ranch. There will be a demand for beef and folks will be moving westward. You have to be patient dearest, keep your dream close to your heart."

Pa stood from his chair taking Ma into his arms, she returned his affection with a kiss.

"Mary, you will always be the closest to my heart. You seek and find good, you are my hope. I Love you."

Their love for each other warmed my heart. Much to Pa's dismay, and our intenese arguments I enlisted with the Union in September '63.

-SR-

(1873)

I directed my thoughts to Pa knowing he was with me in spirit. "Pa you will be dismayed at all the items that are now considered income and taxable. This tax has been law for ten years now; there is a ray of hope that it may be repealed. Over the ten years, the government added new sources of income to the sole 'employment earnings', raised the taxing percentage, and the supporting paperwork increased proportionately." I thought I felt his presence, light as a snowflake falling on my face. A whisper said, you'd better pick up that pencil, and make some tracks son.

I laid the ledger open pulling out the bunch of receipts and expenditures spreading them over the desk's surface. Daisy walked to my side looking over the paper-landscaped desk. She silently placed the cup of coffee down on the only walnut spot available. "Thank you Daisy," I sighed. She sensed that I could use a pick-me-up right about now. Her timing made me wonder if she could read minds _._ She had a built in intuition, as Ma possessed, knowing what you wanted before you even thought of it. I took a sip of coffee. Yep it was brewed strong to keep me awake and focused.

Daisy Louise Cooper, a recent widow, arrived at my ranch near penniless, hoodwinked into buying a house and a store in Sherman, Wyoming. Moving out West was a dream her husband and she shared. I had to break the terrible news to her that the town of Sherman did not exist.

It has been two years since Andy, my sixteen-year-old brother, went to St Louis an enrolled into a "finishing" school, to pick up first year college courses in chemistry, algebra, Latin, biology and English. The savings will be considerate if Andy could by-pass his first college year. What I save will fund both Jonesy's and Andy's living expenses. College education career choices are few and worthy; medical, law, financial, educational or journalism. The closest finishing schools were in St. Louis. Andy set his sights on becoming a physician.

Our newest stray is Michael Williams. Renegade Indians killed his parents and he was dropped off on my doorstep weeks before Daisy arrived. On the same day Daisy stepped off the stage I hired her to take care of Mike and housekeep for all of us. It was serendipity, that Daisy had a new home and a new family. Hiring her was one of my best decisions, this arrangement worked out well. Her presence was instrumental to our legal adoption of Mike.

Jess Harper, my hired hand and friend is two years younger than me, bringing exuberance back into my life. He easily becomes a kid again, when he joins in with Andy and Mike's tomfoolery. Jess walked by me poking fun at my horse drawing.

"Why ya puttin' a horsey tail on a hippothomas? Ain't ya supposed ta be doin' some cipherin' ya got ta get done? You been carpin' all week havin' ta pick up that pencil." He commented. I threw a pencil at his backside.

Our folks wanted both of us to attain a higher education; Andy will fulfill their hopes. My education could not advance when I became saddled with the responsibilities of running a ranch and raising Andy after our parents passed. Pa died while I was soldiering and Ma passed a few years later. Ma was a teacher and she rounded out my education instilling my love of literature and history.

"Well that's enough procrastinating, its time to begin," I said and began adding up the amounts on the receipts before supper was served.

-SR-

I requested quiet a few times of my family after the dinner dishes were stashed. I was absent-mindedly rubbing my forehead, a habit I have when I get frustrated.

I shifted my body in the chair settling down to get my mind on these paper piles. I made a note to include Andy as my partner on the tax return. On the 1040 for 1872, I wrote my full name, address, and birth date.

My rag tag family seemed to put the beans in their ears rather than in their stomachs for dinner today. They were horsing around not hearing or chosing to ignore my polite requests for quiet. Jess was on all fours tickling Mike who was lying on his back screaming gleefully. I could see the action from the reflective glass covering my folk's wedding picture. Jess's backside was facing Daisy, who couldn't resist the urge, leaned over from her chair and goosed him. She was laughing so hard she nearly fell out of the rocker. Jess's eyes opened wide surprised at the poke. Most people agree Daisy is younger in spirit than her age in years. I agree, watching her join the rough housing fun with the youngsters in the living room.

"I couldn't resist Jess!" she got the words out between bouts of loud laughing.

"Daisy, that ain't fair." Jess choked out losing his balance when Mike tackled him after her jab.

Mike took full advantage of returning the merciless tickling sitting on Jess's stomach to hold him down. Buttons was adding his noise to the commotion and whacking Jess with his wagging tail.

"Please, I need quiet now!" I yelled over the din. The group looked up, shrugged and the craziness continued. I stood up with hands on my hips, "Stable it now!" They tried to muffle their laughing unsuccessfully.

"Slim, dear, you should join us," said Daisy. "You can certainly use some fun, and it is a good way to release your tension."

"Sorry, I can't, this is too important and it has to be done by the fifteenth and that's in twelve days." I glanced above the roll top desk at the 1873 Laramie Mercantile and Clothing Store calendar for confirmation. The picture for April was the latest design in stoves. This model had two large knobs resembling eyes that seemed to be watching me, monitoring my progress. This was a picture where the subject's eyes seemed to follow me as I walked by it. It did not matter if I walked to the left or the right of it, the eyes would follow me. A picture of Pa had the same effect. I believed Ma when she said, don't move from that corner, your father is watching you Matthew Jr.! _"_ I was punished by having to stand facing a corner with Pa's portrait perched on the opposite wall's shelf. I could feel his picture's eyes watching me from the across the room. I stood very still until time was up.

Jonesy would have liked this stove model. He was my Pa's loyal friend who stayed to take care of us after Pa passed. He was cook, family advisor, and 'doctor.' Jonesy took pleasure in copiously spreading the olfactory offending liniment he brewed for beasts and men on whatever complaints we had. I remember Jonesy bragging that it was none better, it will make a man live to be one hundred. I teased unless we die from that pungent odor first. Jonesy had to get the last word in. He retorted it works because no sooner do I grab for it, you all get well real spontaneously like. Jonesy accompanied Andy to school in St. Louis, keeping him on the straight and narrow.

Jess interrupted my thoughts, "Old serious Slim," he said, shaking his head. "Hardrock, ya need ta relax and kick it around." He looked at Daisy and she let out her suppressed laughter. I began laughing along with them.

"I heard that Jess! You may sit here and figure this out if you find it that funny."

"Oh no! I ain't touchin' ranchin' business. I ain't laughin' at ya Slim, did you see what Daisy up and done ta me?"

"Really, I don't want to know." I feigned ignorance.

Mike started to explain. Daisy frowned at him making the 'shhhh' motion with her finger on her lips at Mike.

"Let's let Slim do his work. I think its bedtime for you Mike. Jess and I will retire soon after you so the house will be nice and quiet. Send Buttons outside so his barking won't distract Slim." Daisy requested.

"Awww, Aunt Daisy…I want to watch Slim," Mike whined.

"There will be no 'Awwwing' from you," Daisy mimicked, "its your bedtime dear." She put her hands on his shoulders gave him a gentle push towards his bedroom with an affectionate pat to his bottom.

"Do you need a few minutes away from that desk Slim, wanna sit outside for a spell and jaw some?" Jess asked.

"Nope, just go to bed Jess," I stiffly told him. "Good Night Daisy," I said gently. Daisy kissed my cheek as she passed by.

-SR-

It would have been pleasant to sit outside jawing while enjoying this balmy April evening that is rare in Wyoming. Talking on the small front porch before bed is Jess's and my way to bond as we discus the day's events and irrelevant topics over coffee. We relax with our feet propped up on the railing sitting in old willow chairs that my dad crafted. We looked forward to summer taking our talks outdoors until colder fall nights force us indoors. Right now, I am tempted to go outside with Jess.

I was having difficulty rifling through the financial papers and receipts putting them in order before starting the tax return. Dang, Jess has sloppy handwriting along with his messy journal entries! Why can't he keep the columns of numbers straight? I muttered. His figures are like stray cattle and I can't herd them into the correct corrals because I can't read the brands. I tried to impress on Jess the importance of keeping the book in order. I was fuming as I pulled debits and profits from the Ranch Accounting Ledger. Good thing I knew better not to let Jess handle the Great Overland Mail and Stagecoach Line's journal.

The stage stop franchise supplies supplemental income, occasionally it becomes our sole income. The stages pull in to switch horse teams where passengers can get out to stretch their legs. Meals are available at a reasonable price. Overland requires precise records so we can be compensated for the horse feed and their care, stagecoach equipment upkeep, customer's meals, and our labor. If Jess had made the entries Mr. Frasier, the supervisor, may take a precursory look then audit until the ink ran for the mountains. Therefore, I alone handle my stage franchise financials. I will have to be patient with Jess this coming year, as I teach him how to keep records in the journal. I suspect that he may have only achieved a fourth grade education; he does not seem to be that well schooled although he is quick to learn if he applies himself.

Waiting in line after my taxes was Jess's and Daisy's personal returns. Mose, the old stagecoach driver, who is sweet on Daisy, hinted he needed help so that made it three more to do. What a complicated load of muck this was becoming. There was nearly a mountain of paperwork to dog through. The instructions said this should not take more than twelve hours to complete a return.

The directions were the same as last years with the addition of a few items. I did a glance through of everything that was sent by the IRS. I found increases in the allowance for dependents and filing deduction. Rental fees were added as a source of income. After reading the new tax rate, I commented to the stove's picture,"Whoa! That was one percent more since last year's reporting! Income tax is now at eight percent."

I flipped to page five to see what is new in Business Income. A notice headlined the top of this page printed in bold font: ATTENTION FARMERS AND RANCHERS, Scientific observation has determined that global cooling is responsible for the 1872 summer drought and the extreme winter blizzards. The Federal Government recognizes that the weather has brought a hardship on these businesses. The Federal Government has allowed an additional income deduction of thirty percent for Farmers and Ranchers. This is a one-time deduction for said businesses only.

Wyoming always had cold winters. This April is unusually warm and last summer was broiling hot, it seemed like a contradiction to what is being called 'global cooling'. The Farmer's Almanac predicted an above average warm wet April for our territory. For this summer, it predicted temperatures to soar into the ninety's, making for another hot summer. Last summer's heat forced a drought lasting into September. My hay crop failed forcing me to purchase hay. The harsh weather decimated a good fifth of my cattle. Thank goodness, we ranchers are given this tax break. I will take the deduction, no arguments here whether or not global cooling is accountable. I am confident that I will be getting a refund regardless of the tax increasing to eight percent.

I red the last of the directions; Tax payments are to be paid at any post office or stage office that delivers mail. Be sure to ask for a receipt and a copy. Keep the copy for your records. Place the other receipt in with the 1040, sign and date your return and send it via mail, postmarked no later then April 15.

A Friendly Reminder: Review your work for math errors and omissions. Audits will be commanded if errors are found. Keep your sources of reported income, if an audit is scheduled.

The Laramie Gazette reported that a spokes person for the IRS declared it would be easier to complete and file this year with the simplified directions. I found I had to re-read the instructions every step of the way. Alas, it was another government contradiction. Anyone with less than a twelfth grade education would be damned. I heard mutterings in the general store and saloon on how difficult it is to understand and complete. The biggest gripe was paying taxes on hard-earned income. Their complaints were justifiable and I agreed on all accounts."

Earlier today, I handed Jess a blank form asking him to look it over. Jess does not have a long attention span, which does not help with his comprehension. Patience is not his forte.

"Jess, please look over this form, think about your income and debts and get them corralled on paper so I can help you." I handle Jess's finances, he did not have much else than a meager savings account. He could not get a loan, was forced to pay cash, having no collateral other than his horse and firearms. I am trying to teach him that there is more to finances than a paycheck. Jess frowned at my request.

"How hard could that be?" I asked him. That was my first mistake thinking that would be easy for Jess. He did not understand that there are other sources of income beyond a payday

This evening he began to tax my patience to the limits. Jess looked at the form. I can tell that the way he shook his head he was trying to clear out the smoke from attempting to think. He was not getting it. He provided me with some relief humor when he got all-tizzied-up trying to explain what he considered taxable income.

"I am claimin' my gun, Slim." His professional gun was his priority. Years ago, he had the gun altered, with a filed down hammer and hair trigger. The handle plates were custom molded to fit his hand. If his gun fell into another's possession, the gun's balance would be off altering the shooter's accuracy.

"On what basis?" I asked. "You don't use it anymore to earn a living. If you did use your professional gun and you were awarded a bounty, the bounty is income. Since you give your rewards to charity their amounts go into the 'gift' line."

"Since I ain't keeping the money it is not income."

"That doesn't matter, Jess. If you earn it, you report it. If you chose to donate it or give it to the victim's family, it becomes a donation. Then you can claim it as such after it is claimed as earnings."

"I never spent it." Jess replied.

He was not grasping it. I rubbed my forehead telling myself it is going to be a long evening."Let's try it this way. I pay your wages also known as income. You take some of that money and spend it at the saloon, on beer, or Millie." She is a pretty saloon server that Jess is sweet on. "Ok?" Jess nods his head yes. So far so good, I thought keeping my fingers crossed. _"_ You didn't keep it you spent it away, so it's still your income. When Millie does her tax return, she has to account for all the money she makes, ahem, the hard way too. She probably keeps a ledger of all who paid for her time and how much she charged." I was trying to be delicate, Millie's other job, in the Biblical sense, was that she excellently fornicated as I know first hand. I just say hello now, not wanting to make Jess jealous and taking a shot at me. "She has to account on how she got her income including tips. Her services are not considered a donation to you!"

"Yeah they are, we like each other it's personal. She don't charge me," he grinned.

"So Jess are you saying that you two are a couple?"

He looked down, embarrassed, "No argument here Slim."

"So if she doesn't charge you, you got nothing to claim." Before he opened his mouth to protest I told him, "Money gifts and tips are considered income by the person receiving the money. The IRS can cross reference the money trail."

"I bring her gifts, flowers, trinkets, white wine…." Jess trailed off.

"White wine?"

"Yep, white wine because it don't stain sheets. If it were red then I would have ta pay the Lotsou Muk Chinese Laundry ta washee the bedding. So would that be tax deductible?"

"What, the wine or the laundry bill?" I uncrossed my fingers to push a lock of hair back in place.

"Both?"

"Jess, it doesn't bother you that she has customers?"

"Nope, Miss Daisy said Millie is a sweet girl and we all have our jobs ta do."

"So you're saying she donates her time to you?" I have to tug his chain once in awhile. Jess gives me a look that says you are so wrong.

"No, Daisy meant that I should overlook her career if I like her. Kind of like ya givin' me a chance over lookin' my gun fightin' past." Jess lowered his right hand towards his hip reaching for his gun that by touching the handle calmed him. He forgot he wasn't wearing it and his fist clenched and unclenched in agitation. I learned to read him by the motions of his hands. I wasn't in danger of receiving a knuckle sandwich, yet.

"Slim we went thru this already. I don't pay her."

"Then you have nothing to claim on your return for her affections, laundry or goodies you give her."

"G'night," he called out. Jess took that thought to bed. I heard him moving around in the bedroom that we share. It was past midnight and he probably was too uptight to sleep. Jess tiptoed to me in his stocking feet and murmured, "Slim?"

"What?" Here comes trouble I just know that he is going to come up with some horse crap just to annoy me or try to get me to sit outside with him. He has issues and he uses me as a sounding board on some nights.

"I got a question, my tax things were goin' through my head."

"I am surprised that your thoughts can flow since your head is made of wood."

Jess frowned skewing his eyebrows upward. Maybe he did have a question. "Ok out with it. What is bothering you?"

"My gun," He said flatly.

Dang I should have known he would not rest the gun issue. It was my turn to get some fun in. "What is it doing to keep you awake? Is it making clicking noises or whispering sweet nothings to you? Maybe the bullet chamber is grumbling because you forget to feed it bullets?"

"No it's about that tax thing." Jess was not amused.

"Jess we went over that and I told you I would help when mine are done." Jess had a way of breezing right over my replies. His one-track thinking was fed by his stubbornness.

"Then the gun upkeep should be accounted for. I buy my bullets, gun oil, and do practice shots ta' keep it performin' properly. What type of credit would that fall under?"

"Practice shots Pard? There is no such thing allowed by the IRS."

"You know, making sure equipment works safely….ta' save lives and…."

I interrupt him, "Jess it would fall under depreciation of equipment. "Umm," I reminded myself to say it so Jess comprehends, "That is wear and tear of equipment used in the regular course of the job. Is that what is keeping you up? You are not a lawman."

"I do get deputized and paid." Jess replied.

"I didn't think of that." Jess was deputized several times last year and so was I for that matter, I almost omitted income. So maybe his professional gun and rifle would count. "You may be right claiming the upkeep of your firearms and you need to include your deputy pay as income."

"They don't pay me enough ta' bother reportin' it," Jess said.

"Doesn't matter you earned it you report it," I instructed. "Sheriff Cory keeps payroll records on deputies. He has a record of how much you earned last year. You better enter the dates of deputing, IRS demands accuracy." Jess's argument about not earning enough to bother reporting it was going to snowball, so I tried to cinch it up. "Remember he keeps a money trail too." Exasperated, I gave him his return and said, "Look over what they are requesting and see if you can come up with figures for each item that affects your financial life. Give me time to figure out what I was doing. I cannot split my brain in two to answer your questions and get through mine. I will explain it to you and give you a hand to complete yours when mine is done." It is a good thing Jess brought up being a deputy; he saved us from a possible audit.

Then, just when I thought I chased Jess away, he asks, "Should you or I claim Mike as a dependent?"

"We are both guardians but only one of us can claim him."

"I should claim Mike because I have less stuff to enter. Besides Slim you have so much more ta deal with."

I tried to get my point across, "I need the dependent write off because I have more income and that will help lower my taxable income. Do not forget that I clothe, feed, and board Mike. You do not help me with Mike's needs. I don't ask you to Jess, so Mike doesn't cost you anything." Jess became quiet and listened to me. "I freely provide the same for you. That reminds me, I could give you an estimate on how much your food, shelter, laundry, horse boarding and your doctoring costs me for a year, then you will have to add that into your income."

"What? Why?" Jess demanded his eyes darkened flashing distrust.

"Because, items I provide as part of your employment and keep are considered intangibles. That is where you receive the value of services in exchange for a slightly reduced income."

"Tangerines? What is that?"

"It's a fruit." I looked at him incredulously. Maybe it was that Texan drawl making it sound like he said tangerines. I remembered the way he said _cat-a-rank-ous_ without knowing what the word meant. I tried to figure it out. Then it dawned on me; it was when thugs upended Smudge's wagon, causing the heavy load of tree logs to roll on him. Jess and I went to work saving his life. Smudge has always been ornery leaving people either liking or avoiding him. Jess must have heard him described as cantankerous. Smudge is still alive and 'cat-a-rank-ous' as hell.

"So now the Irse wants to know how much tangerines I eat? Well I don't!" Jess argued.

What the heck is Irse? Oh, Jess read IRS as a word sounding like 'erse'. I sometimes wondered if Jess lived on the moon. I smoothed my blonde hair back and rubbed my forehead.

"Jess calm down. Tangerines are a fruit and we never ate any. They are similar to oranges, cousins to lemons. Mike drank orange juice at a restaurant. Tangibles are items or services. Big difference no?" I continued, "I could give you a bigger paycheck but then you would have to pay for your own necessities. You are family so you live here free including Daisy, Andy, and Jonesy. I always pay the doctor when you are injured. Please stop moaning about not claiming Mike as a dependent. Don't worry Jess; I won't make you account for your tangerines."

"Huh?" he put his hands on his hips and I could see his cinch was coming loose.

"Your intangibles," I spelled it out, I*N*T*A*N*G*I*B*L*E*S, then apologized, "Sorry Jess, I was poking fun at your Texas lingo."

"Ya claim Andy so I should claim Mike." Jess is still working on me to relent and allow him to claim Mike. "Maybe I can claim half of Mike since we both have custody."

"Jess you are thinking too hard, I see smoke coming out of your ears. I pay for Andy's education and living expenses at school, and I can claim him because he is a dependent if he is attending school full time. That is a good chunk of change coming out of my pocket."

There is silence for a few blissful moments and I think about Daisy. She is a smart person and can complete her own return. She drafts her return and I will review her figures then copy them into the final return. Daisy has so much daily housework to do and I don't mind finalizing her return. She could extend her job description as babysitter for one over grown child with the initials J.H.

Jess grabbed his blank form, sat for short spell to look at it, about two minutes, and he came back to ask me. "Uh, Mr. Sherman, excuse me."

I wish I could nail his jeans with him wearing them to that rocker. Jess possesses a quick temper and lack of focusing, together spell bad news if his screws come loose. I put my pencil down. "What?" I said impatiently as I just got a handle of what falls under 'Ranch and Farm equipment: Value of depreciation'.

"I don't understand this." His face showed he was starting to succumb to hopelessness just as Andy's did when he was about to cry.

"Jess did you actually read it?" I soften my attack. Jess cannot read that well. He skips over big words, what he calls high-faluting. That is how he misses the gist of the question. "Your first step to doing your income taxes is reading the instructions to understand what they want in each section."

His shoulders slump and he has a bewildered look on his face. At least he isn't going to cry.

He lets loose with a barrage of questions; "What's capital gains?...There's a farm income slot but why don't they ask for ranch income?.…Where does my gun upkeep costs go?...Is it capital gains when I turn a killer in for capital punishment? That's a gain for Laramie's safety ain't it?...Domestic production profits or losses, is that when we rent the stallion from the Samuels for our mares? We profit when the mares are foaling and lose when the stallion can't get the mare, you know Slim."

Jess goes for broke with rapid firing questions reminds me of when he fires his gun fanning the hammer. He can shoot them by me very quick when he knows I can't spare the time.

"Jess come up for air, oh my aching head!" I blurt out. Jess can be a total distraction with the chaos he causes me. I threw the paper work up in the air. I snap another pencil; if I did not have a pencil, Jess would have been feeling the effects of my fist. This sixth pencil took the brunt.

"Hey Slim you can count the pencils as equipment wear and tear!" Jess comments.

" _WHY_ would I?" Is he serious, that boy just doesn't know when to quit?

"You seem mighty upset, Slim, Mr. Sherman, sir."

"Oh pray tell how did you figure that out? Jess, maybe you ought to look at that thing about health care on line thirty-eight. If you continue to distract me you will have a dollar amount to place in there for next year."

Jess commented sounding like an accountant, "If you had thoroughly read the directions you would have found the expense category for stress related equipment damage including ranch hand abuse on line forty-nine," He mocked. Then he continued in his natural voice. "Maybe ya need a drink. Since Daisy's liquor is for medical use only, ya can claim that can't ya?"

"No, Daisy can, it is her liquor. Why am I answering these ridiculous questions? Nothing you have brought up is relevant to this Erse, IRS return. Dang it Jess, now you got me calling it that!"

Jess's face wore a 'my feelings are hurt' expression. I tell myself to wait for it...wait for it..wait...then the cheese slips off Harper's cracker!

"If they want this form done ta tax my income, I will paint a bull's eye on it, nail it ta their backs, and use it for target practice! They will think twice before taxin' me! The Irse should pay me ta do their work." He is breathing hard his hands are fisted. He wants to punch at something that he cannot understand.

"Well if they do pay you, it will have to be claimed as income." I shot him a goofy grin.

Jess stopped to take a breath then continued; "Iffen they want this form done then let them do the cipherin' and eat their tangerines!"

I manage to keep my voice calm. "Are you done Jess? Damn I have to review all my paper piles to get my mind back on this."

"But if you bought the liquor, is it part of your business expenses or would it be personal?"

"As long as it _ain't_ white wine!" I joked.

When he looks at me, I see his gears trying to mesh. Jess continues to ask questions so I tuned him out. He was correct, this stuff is confusing, but regardless I have to muddle through with Jess irritating me as a child does when seeking attention.

"Jess I am going to count to three! I am going to draw my gun! I will be able to claim its use for stress relief under medical expenses after I shoot you. I will also get a credit for capital gains according to your version. I will get you off the streets thrown in jail! Sheriff Mort Corey will collect a deduction for you being a dependent prisoner in his jail. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR? ONE…TWO…"

"Hey Slim one more question" he says innocently, "PLEASE!"

"No! Absolutely not!" I shout and then turn my back on him, time for me to get busy again. The calendar caught my eye. The flickering of the candle on my desk made the stove look like its knobs were winking at me. I flipped down the page not wanting to be hypnotized by a picture, besides my eyes are burning, my head is throbbing, and my forehead is feeling raw. I needed to go to bed.

Jess took his wrinkled practice sheet, and sat down on the rocker. The paper was the recipient of his menacing gunfighter stare down. The 1040 did not react so he did the next best thing by crumpling it and pitched it towards the fireplace. It fluttered down landing short of the fire pan. I was waiting for him to stomp it into submission. Our strong discussion must have awakened Daisy. She buttoned her robe walking to join Jess by the hearth.

"Dear what have you got yourself so worked up about? It's late and that goes for you too Slim." She spots Jess's form on the floor and picks it up. "Look you wrinkled your return, luckily Slim picked up extras. You can't turn that into the IRS in that shape."

"Oh no, Daisy you have just rekindled the fire. I finally got Jess parked and dang it; you just let the dog out. I am trying to complete my forms and Jess is annoying me. I am tired but I need to complete this tonight. You are encouraging Jess after I got him to leave me alone."

"This is a waste of time; I can't cotton on why I have ta write my wages on this 1040 Irse paper! What kind of name is 1040?" Jess criticized.

"Jess, do you remember Mrs. McDanber, she used to work in the mercantile? She was a hand short of your height, with blonde hair and hazel eyes, a real stunning woman. She has a cousin, Maybell Marie, who has a woman friend named Elizabeth. Elizabeth is married to a Congressional secretary." Daisy stated.

"TWO WOMEN ARE MARRIED!" Jess exclaimed and I raised my eyebrows unsure if I heard what I thought Daisy said.

"No, nothing of the sort, Silly!" Men are entrusted with recording meeting minutes and transcribing decisions into documents while Congress is in session. They are secretaries, it's not a position limited to women." Daisy spoke boldly like a suffragist, arguing against my assumption that a secretary is no longer a position limited to women. "Change your thinking Slim to either gender is capable of working the same jobs. Jess, you were treated by a female dentist in Medicine Bow. You admitted her skill was on the same level as our regular male dentist."

"Yes Daisy she fixed my tooth without pulling it, and she was sure pretty. I still don't recall knowing Mrs. McDanber."

"You should because you mentioned to me, after I introduced you to her, that she looked pretty spry for an older woman. I noticed your eyes admiring her finely tailored dress bodice; she prefers her dresses custom sewn. Of course, that was when we concluded our shopping, when you carried the crate of supplies to the buckboard. That's alright if you can't recall her, she left Laramie a short while ago."

"Oh yes, before I forget, I was telling you how 1040 was named. Well the secretary's wife, Elizabeth learned bits and pieces of the doings behind Congress's closed doors from her husband's ramblings over brandy before dinner. They have always enjoyed a brandy together before their dinnertime. Its been a ritual for as long as they have been married. My goodness that adds up to years of accumulated tidbits of information supplying Elizabeth with enough gossip for many social events. She is the life of women's meetings. Some of her gossip is very interesting and more delectable than dessert."

"Daisy?" Jess urged her on while he impatiently rubbed his hand over his holster. Jess wasn't into women's 'breath-wasting' talk. Daisy was aware that Jess was quickly losing interest but he was much calmer.

"Elizabeth mentioned some of these enticements to her friend Mabes. Anyhow, Maybell Marie, or fondly called Mabes by her friends, could not resist and spilled the beans to her cousin, Mrs. McDanber. Mrs. McDanber then told me." Daisy explained. "This is the lowdown, that when Congress finally put the Income Tax into law after many days of debating, mind you. Elizabeth quoted her husband, that it was a tiring drawn out business."

"Ya lost me, Miss Daisy," Jess said.

"Be patient Jess. Elizabeth's husband overheard a Congressman commenting, good, it's finally passed at 10:40 A.M., just in time for his break. The secretary told that to his wife Elizabeth over their brandy that evening, in confidence. Elizabeth, in turn told Mabes, her friend. Mabes swore she would keep it under wraps. Maybell Marie then relayed it to her cousin Mrs. McDanber. Those two always shared secrets. Mrs. McDanber, let it slip when I shopped in the mercantile. We were discussing Easter preparations agreeing that it was a foolish choice to put a tax deadline smack dab in the middle of a month. Filling out all those 1040 forms were dreadful and will interfere with Easter baking. "That's when Mrs. McDanber told me..."

"What was told," Jess and I echoed each other.

"Elizabeth's husband was in the closed session of Congress when he scribbled 10:40 on the draft to record the time and date the tax became law. When the law was formally drawn up, for lack of a better title, 1040 Income Tax Reporting _*_ stuck. That Jess, is how the 1040 was named."

Daisy beamed, I wasn't sure if it was due to her hoodwinking Jess or, perhaps it was with pride that she knew something most Americans didn't known. In my opinion, I do not think anybody would care.

Daisy winked at me to go along with her fabrication. Jess calmed down seemingly to believe her and that's was the point to get him focused on something else. I watched Jess smooth out his paper on his lap, then he touched each finger of his left hand with his right index finger. He started over, and over, a few times. I suspected he was trying to sort out the women in Daisy's story. I thought that it was uncanny that I recalled I might have seen Mrs. McDanber.

Daisy gently began kneading my shoulders. "Oh Slim your papers are so helter-skelter. Let me help you. We can make some sense of this together."

"No thanks Daisy, it my business, the responsibility is mine."

"I can organize it for you." She squeezed my shoulder hard to emphasize her offer.

"Oh, by the way it was a good story Daisy."

"Slim are you sure it was a story? Do not underestimate women's 'breath-wasting' talk; some of it may be true. Do you think Jess can add the columns for you, it will be good practice for him?"

Before I could reply, she called out to Jess. "Come along Jess we need to give Slim some thinking room. Let's sit at the table so Slim can work."

"Great, if he doesn't confuse me, he writes a one looking like a seven, or writing three backwards or six upside down." I mumbled to myself that Daisy did mean well.

"Slim, that is why we have pencils with erasers." She spotted my broken ones on the floor. "Look they are all in halves." She bent down scooping them up.

"Well I um, um, get a little stressed and clutch them too hard snapping them."

"That's OK Slim, there are now more pencils to go around for us to give you a hand ciphering. Jess, dear, please come over here. Slim is calmed down he isn't going to shoot you."

Jess could not resist her mothering demands, walked to her but then he turned from the table and stood behind me again.

"To the table with you," I ordered pointing at the table. Jess walked toward the table.

"Come sit down Jess," Daisy was tapping at the chair's seat next to her, "Come over here now. Let's see how we can help Slim. In a few minutes I will make coffee and we can finish that pie OK boys?"

"Yeah I guess." I doubted that anything would be accomplished. Jess and Daisy can easily get off the track.

"Alright Daisy we will try it together." I condescended.

"That's what family is for, we'll get it done together," Jess said brightly.

Daisy had the receipts all sorted and stacked into their appropriate categories on the table, "Jess please add up each pile. Take your time counting the column down and then recount starting at the bottom towards the top. The addition result should be the same. Separately add each stack of papers."

Daisy proofed Jess's math. "You did real well dear," she smiled and affectionately patted his arm, "Those were long columns of numbers." They both walked to their rooms saying "Night Slim don't stay up too late." The apple pie sat on the counter untouched.

I was reading quietly aloud to myself hoping if I voiced the instructions they would click. Capital gains profit, report the difference between what you sold your durable goods for and what you paid. Durable goods are property, equipment and certain livestock. How can the living be durable? I questioned. Maybe stud service counts? That is not clear and I re-read it. Jess had quietly padded in his socks to stand behind my chair. How long he was standing there, I had no idea.

He said, "Sorry I got you derailed Slim." Dang I thought he would be sound asleep by now.

"I just figured out what capital gains are." Jess said in a sleepy voice.

"Any help would be appreciated," As if he could help I thought.

"A wealthy person is a capitalist, 'cause they gamble in the stock market and does those kinds of deals for profit. Am I right?"

"Yes Jess you are close."

"So then capital gains are what happen ta' the rich folk. They are also called that for another reason. 'Cause they can buy more food ya know." He yawned. "Bank men and lawyers are well off and thick around their middles. They gained bellies from eating too well. Get it Slim? Capitalists with Capital Gained bellies"

I sighed letting out a silent, oh boy.

Jess added, "That's because they can afford ta' stock their larders and eat very well every day." He made a sleepy boyish smile apparently proud of his contribution.

I saw Daisy peek out of her bedroom doorway, probably to see that neither of us were sleeping and keeping her up. She smothered her laugh in her robe's neckline overhearing Jess's explanation. She closed the door before Jess could hear her snickers. She came out of her room, barely composed, heading towards the kitchen.

"Let's have some coffee and pie." Daisy didn't dare look at us so she would not break into fits of laughter. She hurried into the kitchen to make coffee. I heard the chinking of china and flatware. The coffee aroma was wonderful wafting to my desk. The three of us sat together enjoying the late night coffee and apple pie.

I was staring at my IRS form that begged to be completed after they went back to bed. "Tomorrow is another day I am sure I will finish it then," I spoke to the stove's picture, putting April's page back on the peg commenting, "Oh sorry I didn't know you were sleeping," I tapped the page to lay flat against the wall.

I walked to my bed, quietly laughing to myself as I pictured a revenuer with a bull's eye painted on a 1040 return pinned to his back running away as Jess took aim. I yawned with my head resting on the pillow. Jess was on his side, I watched his chest raise and fall in slumber. I reached over to turn the lantern down. Maybe, just maybe, the Irse law will be repealed when Congress realizes that this income tax is complicated and this nonsense should be dropped like a hot potato.

-SR-

It was pushing noon when I finally climbed out of bed and stretched. Today is the tax deadline rushed into my consciousness. I stayed up late reviewing all of our returns. I heard the stage rumble down the slope and peered out the open window. The driver must be Mose because Jess has planted himself in the middle of the drive. He plays dodge with Mose. It is a dangerous game those two lame brains devised. I gave up lecturing to them that one day an accident will happen. Mose careened to the right to avoid hitting Jess. The object of the game is to see who would get out of the way first, thus losing a bet. Mose hopped down from the booth waving his fist, he was yelling at Jess.

"I had me a long drive from Casper, the all night express, and I don't need your shenanigans, you hooligan!"

"Mose I got your tax paper here!" Jess yelled holding up a closed envelope. "Slim got it did up for you, says all you need ta do is sign and date 'er. Be sure to mail it today, pronto."

Jess kicked horse droppings away from where the three passengers would disembark proceeding to assist them off the coach. The passengers flashed malevolent looks at Mose. I decided to stay put, too tired to deal with griping passengers.

"Just in time for the deadline, huh? What I got to pay Boy?" Mose bellowed over the horses' snorts of displeasure for the abrupt forceful swerve.

"Nothing Slim says, I think they owe you."

"Well I'll be dern! How much does I get?"

"Don't know Slim says that's private. Slim and I will be ridin' into Laramie to get Daisy's and ours in the mail this afternoon.

"So where's Slim?" Mose surveyed the yard.

"He was up late doin' our taxes and we are lettin' him sleep in some."

"It sounds like old Slim had a taxing evening."

"He would have had it worser, if the Irse taxed my tangerines."

"Yeah you can say that again Jess. Next time they will be squeezing taxes out a' rutabagas. Tell Sleeping Beauty I owe him! HaaaaaYawwwww come on boys I got miles to go before I sleep!" Mose flicked the leather jerking the stage forward toward Laramie and his bed.

-SR-

Epilogue

I was pleased that Daisy and Jess received their refunds in May. I was expecting mine to arrive with theirs. It still had not materialized by the end of May. I pulled my 1040 copy from the desk drawer pouring over the figures once again. I was back to rubbing my forehead which felt like it was glowing red. Jess wasn't making matters any better by waiving his refund in my face. I turned the calendar's page to June. This color picture displayed a meat grinder with a plate of finely ground round. I suddenly felt like the plated result due to my fears chopping away at my confidence.

"I told ya ta let me claim half of Mike. But no, ya wanted all the credit. That is where ya went wrong. I reckon Irse agents are looking inta' Mike's custody papers now. You know the paper trail ya told me about. I will probably lose my custody half of Mike ta ya. Maybe ya should'a let me claim my intangib-whatevers." Jess carried on as we reattached downed barbed wire.

"Intangibles." I yelled.

"Alrighty got it. Hey Slim, I know you were first in line when they handed out brains getting borned and I reckon when it was my turn ta' be birthed they ran out of brains so I got shorted.

"You would have fooled me. Jess you have smarts in ways that I lack. Together we are formidable as partners." I warmly said.

"I will pay back my refund to make it right for you. If worse comes ta' worser, I will fess up ta the federal judge that I put you up ta double-dealin'. We can split rocks together at the territorial prison."

"I appreciate your offer although it will not help me out of this fix."

-SR-

"Is something wrong with supper Slim? Daisy asked noticing I did not have an appetite.

"No it was good, I got a lot on my mind." I watched Jess slice a rare piece of roast beef for himself.

"Want me to slice you some Slim, anybody else?" He offered.

I got a flashback of the 'meat grinder picture' when Jess speared the beef dripping with red tinged juices. "My stomach is unsettled its best for me not to eat right now. Excuse me I need to get some fresh air." I put my hat on and quietly went outside. Jess joined me when he finished his meal.

"Hey pard you look kind'a green what's wrong? Wanna talk about it any?"

"Jess, a lot weighs on whether I reported my income correctly. I could be fined, or if the IRS construes that I lied I could be sent to prison."

"Slim you are worrying about something that has not happened."

"Why hasn't my refund arrived? Maybe my submission got lost on its way to Washington D.C.? I must have made a gross error and they will be auditing me. Then what if the stage line supervisor finds out? Would Mr. Frasier trust me to continue keeping my own books? What if he decides to rescind the franchise?" I must have sounded like Jess rapid firing out my worries.

"Hey Slim I'll be right back." Jess brought out two cups of whisky laced coffee.

"Here Pard ease down. Thank you for completin' my Irse, Slim."

-SR-

It was later in July when Mose handed a mail sack to me after he drank his coffee. I rifled through the mail finding an official IRS letter among the bills, addressed to me. Jess and Daisy stood by holding their breath. I took the envelope in my trembling fingers. I began voicing my fears to myself. Dang I knew it, I'm going to get audited…or jail time…Dang what did I do wrong? I poured over those figures checking them thrice. I know the paperwork was in order.

"I know you did your return accurately you would be wise to believe that of yourself Slim," Daisy spoke with conviction.

I wondered if Daisy just read my mind."Thanks for the vote of confidence Daisy, "I gently squeezing her shoulder.

"Now stop fretting and open it," she encouraged.

I read the letter and my refund check was tucked into the fold. I could not hold back my huge grin. Daisy's face brightened seeing my boyish dimples make a rare appearance.

"What got ya so happy? Don't keep it a secret pard."

"It's a notice that we won't have to file income tax after this year's. The Supreme Court repealed the law. That is the last time I will be pounding my head against the wall to make sense of the 1040 filing.

"That's wonderful!" Daisy exclaimed.

"What is that other paper in your hand Slim are you holding out on us?"

"It's my refund Jess."

"Good, real good Slim, you deserve the refund, you worked hard getting ours to us," Mose complimented in his off way. He stayed back allowing for my privacy.

"See Slim you did account for your tangereens and rutabuggers only too well and got your reeward." Jess growled.

"What?" I began to rub my forehead. "Jess for the up-teenth time the word is intangibles. What's with rutabagas?"

"Jess you don't sound happy for Slim, he did work very hard at filing for all of us." Daisy reminded Jess.

Daisy and I looked over the official letter and admired the tax refund figure. "That will allow me to replace cattle and buy hay later this year if The Farmer's Almanac prediction comes true." We didn't notice that Jess walked some feet away. We looked up hearing the distinct cocking sound from his gun's hammer.

"I am not kidding Slim, as always ya have ta be goody-right and shiney-perfect," Jess growled in an icy tone, taking on his fierce gunslinger aura.

"Jess what's wrong? Daisy took a step toward him.

"Daisy don't move!" I warned.

"I better skedaddle. Don't do what I wouldn't do Jess! It ain't worth it!" Mose yelled running to his stagecoach. "I will fetch the sheriff." He stopped the coach at the top of the slope to watch.

"Pard, I counted on you landing in prison. So I will own the ranch! Since ya' ain't goin' ta' prison I will have ta shoot ya. I want this ranch and I will do what I got ta' do!" His tone and challenge was deadly. I trusted Jess completely, now confusion overrode my trust. I swallowed hard never expecting to face the barrow end of Jess's iron. We were stunned at his unexpected behavior and I was not wearing my gun.

Suddenly, Jess darted toward me plucking the check from my hand, laughing as he ran.

"Why you!" I shouted, Jess pulled a joke on me. It felt good to run after him leaving my worries in the dust. I stretched forward to tackle him and missed, when he unexpectedly leaped over the trough, then did his hop-up on to the top corral rail and sailed over. I ended up grasping air losing my balance. I belly slammed into the trough with one big splash.

Jess hopped over giving me a hand up, then handed over my check. I took my check back then grabbed his arm giving him a good dunking.

Jess stood up in the trough dripping wet. "What was that for?"

"To save you a trip to Lotsou Muk Chinese Laundry!"

 **~ The End ~**

 **Thank you for reading.**

My appreciation goes to J. Click, for reading this story, pointing out the worst of my grammar, and offering suggestions.

References:

~Brief History of IRS … From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

~Internal Revenue Service (IRS) Historical Study: IRS Historical Fact Book: A Chronology 1646-1992, "This site is non-commercial and free to the public. *I tweaked the year to fit the story; actually, 1040 forms were not named 1040 until 1894 when Congress reinstated the income tax.

~History of Higher Education in the United States … From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.


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